


Thoughts in the Night

by Trekgloria



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 01:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekgloria/pseuds/Trekgloria
Summary: Ross wakes in the middle of the night and remembers their loving that night and thinks about these early days of their marriage.  A bit of philosophical though.  Sexually explicit.As always comments very much appreciated.  Always seeking to improve.





	Thoughts in the Night

Ross roused from some dream that left broken cobwebs in his mind; he’d been searching for something, but no matter where he looked, what he pursued had just moved on, always just out of sight, though now he couldn’t recall what he sought, but it was something important. The failure in his quest was frustrating and even in his dreams Ross needed to be in control. Ross vaguely recalled his time at school, but reading philosophy was something he disliked a boy, but after returning from the war, would often pull his mother’s tome on the Greek philosophers, in an attempt to make sense of what he had seen and experienced. Ross wondered, perhaps it was as Aristotle suggested, drawn from the body, often predicted the onset of disease. Or he mused was it Plato who saw humans divided when asleep, the gentleman slumbers but the wild beast roams shameless in seeking to gratify its desires without remorse or control. Ross wondered if in his dream searching signified the need to find something that was missing or needed in his life. Searching maybe for love, peace, or even a solution to a problem. Was he chasing someone, was he still looking for something he needed. Pensive reflections probably only spawned by a need to piss Ross thought.  
Fully waking, he stretched and looked out the window, the position of the moon suggested it was just past midnight. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, rose, and walked to the small privy closet. Relieving himself, Ross returned to the bedroom. Standing at the foot of the bed, he gazed at Demelza, even asleep she was inviting and desirable. Her face was relaxed, her mouth slightly open as if she was about to kiss him. Ross smiled at the thought of how well Demelza kissed him. Before their first night, Ross had never kissed a woman in passion and genuine desire. Rarely even, only when carnal lust was upon him, when relieving his body’s demands with a working woman did he just to make that physical connection. But with those women, it was never satisfying to Ross. Kissing was so personal, so intimate he never enjoyed that aspect of joining with someone he did not care for. Yet with Demelza, he craved to feel her lips on his, thrilled when in desire she opened her mouth and allowed him to probe her with his tongue, and savored when she had quickly realized to return the pleasure. And Demelza had been a very quick study in learning his pleasures in his arms and in their shared carnal pleasures, as quickly as all the other things she had learned since arriving at Nampara. Recalling the sensation of her lips, soft and warm opening to his, like a flower in the sun going from bud to bloom with his husbandry, he smiled at how much he now enjoyed kissing her. Even the kisses he placed on her forehead, often the last kiss he offered her before leaving home for the day or following their joining; that kiss, not carnal, almost chaste, but to mark her as his, invisible, but indelible and a potent reminder to her of his cherishing. Ross paused, and thought why cherishing, why not love? The idea of it not being given in love baffled him.  
Ross thought back to the first time they had joined only a few weeks before. The memory was sweet and Ross realized now he’d had desires for Demelza long before that night. But, always, always pushed those yearnings far down, feeling guilty to look at his servant, a girl he’d brought into his home to spare her from the cruel life she faced in Illugun. When he’d seen the scars, both fresh and healed on her back, he felt the first pang of caring for someone besides himself he’d experienced in years. Since his returned from the war, upon discovering his father dead, but more despairing for his lost of Elizabeth, betrothed and then married to Francis, was born his pain, his anger, his fear for himself, but not for others. But when he saw this child, something moved him to protect her, to offer her a future beyond poverty, a life without rage against her body, without fear. While he saw himself prudently only proposing a life as a maid in his house, what he had nurtured was his own future, ultimately wedded to a woman who loved him, gave herself to him, and answered his every command and desire with; “Yes, Ross.” Heady stuff to know another so desired and loved you; and arousing.  
Lying on her back naked, one arm folded across her breasts, the other stretched above her head, her hair spread across the pillow, her legs together tapered as a dancer beginning to rise. Demelza had a grace, whether still or moving. When walking, her long skirt would glide side to side, sweeping just above the ground. On dry days, a small cloud of dust trailed behind her as if trying to keep pace with her swaying hips. Ross thought of some of the pictures he’d seen of goddess Venus, though just pen and ink drawings, for some reason he’s always imagined the goddess’ hair would be red, the exact color of Demelza’s. What a surprise everything about her had been as he recalled bringing Demelza home from the fair that day. Her body so thin, he initially assumed she was a boy. Hidden under a ragged and dirty cap, her hair was tangled, matted, and he was sure infested with crawlers. His first chore as master was to ensure she was clean. Holding her head under the stream of water from the pump and scrubbing, she jumped, cursed, and shivered, but accepted and endured his demands. But the color of her wet hair, like ochre and gold combined, fiery and cool. As she rubbed it dry, each strand seemed to have a life of its own, curling and coiling into a cascade of glinting jewels. Finding her something to wear pulled from his mother’s ancient collection of day dresses, her thin frame fairly swam in the excess fabric those first few months. Using a belt, Demelza secured the clothes to keep them on her body. However, after taking up sewing Demelza had refitted them to suit her figure. And with plenty of hearty food regularly, she gained a few pounds. Ross realized now, the few pounds were the swelling of her breasts, the rounding of her hips, like a rare flower planted in its natural element, she bloomed into life.  
Earlier that night, he’d watched her sitting in the library, her head bent in concentration over one of his books. Her hair, escaping from the ribbon he’d brought her to tie it up, had flowed round her face, partially obscuring it. But Ross had watched her often enough to know she drew her brows together when she was struggling with the words, pursued her lips, pushed her tongue out a fraction as if offering contempt of the adversary and defying failure. Tonight, instead of spelling the word and asking him what it meant, she’d suddenly spoke it and then the meaning out loud. Her tenacity to master a new task at first surprised him, then it was amusing, but by now, he knew she would always rise to the challenge. As he watched her reading this evening, Demelza looked up at him and asked; “Yes Sir, I mean Ross?” still closer in service for all these years then his wife these few weeks, assuming he wanted something and it was still her responsibility to fulfill his requests.  
Ross smiled at her, looked at the clock on the mantel and said: “Time for bed wife.” He did indeed want something. She smiled at him, rose and put her book and basket of mending on the shelf. A few months before she’d have offered to stay up later and continue her tasks, but Ross always insisted, when he went to bed, the rest of the household also retired for the night. But, now, just a few weeks into their marriage, she no longer suggested him going to bed without her. For Ross it was a small reward that she was constant in her desire to join not only in their bed, but with him. Few nights since their marriage had had they not loved upon retiring to bed. Only the week she had her menses, had Demelza been embarrassed and circumspect withholding her body from him. Even begging to sleep in her old room for these nights. Ross refused and told her, this was now her bedroom as the mistress of Namapra, and she determined who shared her bed, if anyone left it would be him, but she would always decide if he could join her in her bed, where he slept in her domain. While Ross knew of a woman’s cycle, living with and understanding this mystery was a new knowledge for him. As a soldier who had seen death take a man as his body exploded when hit by a cannon ball, the thought of blood did not phase him. But, the realization she had not gotten with child since their first and subsequent joinings was a relief. Something made him want to, even now, continue to protect her and that included the dangers of childbirth. But perhaps also to prevent the old gossips from spreading their tittle-tattle that he married her only because she was with child. The greater the time between their first joining and when a child actually arrived would deny these salacious scandal spewing slop sellers their petty gloating. Still, Ross realized their frequent and passionate joining must ultimately result in a child. In the moment the idea of a child, his child created with Demelza, gave him pause and he wondered what would a babe bring to their life? Could he love a child, the child she would bear? He’d never thought about loving a child, though he knew how much his mother had loved both him and his brother, was that because a woman carried and bore it. What did a man feel? His father had never been demonstrative with him, but Ross knew he did care for him. But what did it mean for a man to love his child, Ross wondered.  
And earlier tonight their joining had been one of mutual passion and desire. While they walked up the stairs together, Ross encircled his arm around her waist and caress her buttocks. Demelza slipped her arm around him, not quite so forward to stroke him, but he could feel her hand gently pressing against his side. Something about these little caresses they shared between them were so comforting, but also rousing. As they entered the bedroom, Ross kissed her and felt more than heard her giggle. She pushed herself away from him and went to the basin, removed her clothes and poured in some water and washed her face. Watching her naked, something she was gradually accepting as she knew how much he desired to see her unclothed. Demelza picked up a brush in an attempt to tame her wild curls. But he had taken the brush from her and began to pull it though her hair. Her curls danced through the bristles and escaped, bouncing as if alive. Ross knew she loved to have her hair brushed by him. And he loved to feel the silky strands slip through his fingers. Finally, Demelza turned to face him, took the brush from him, pressed her body against his, and kissed him. The thin fabric of his shirt did little to reduce the feeling of her hard nipples against his chest. Ross quickly pulled his shirt over his head, now his chest was naked against hers to feel her skin against his. Demelza fumbled with the buttons of his breeches. Enjoying the sensation her hand pressing and rubbing against his cock through the fabric as she unfastened each, Ross allowed her all the time she needed to undo them. Finally, he pushed his breeches down and off, already he was hard. Lifting Demelza up so her body slid against his, his face to hers, his cock rubbed against the small swelling of her groin and he groaned, then kissed her.  
Carrying her to the bed, Ross laid her down and knelt beside her. Demelza raised her head and reached her arms up, pulled his face to hers and kissed him. Her hands slid to his shoulders and she squeezed, pulling him tight against her body. Ross moved his mouth from hers and kissed her along her chin to her ear, then whispered; “Demelza.” He meant to say more but the words caught in his throat. His feelings for her rising in his passion and desire seemed quelled by a greater reticence that kept him from expressing his ardor, committing to something he wasn’t ready to say. Instead, he knew to gently nibble and nip along her neck at the hair line. Her response was gooseflesh rising along her whole body. Nuzzling there, the fragrance of the soap she used, handmade and infused with flowers and herbs she collected, something his mother had done, captured the fresh air and sunshine, while her own natural musk always excited him. The desire to bite her like a predator carrying off it’s prey, his, his, only his was strong, but he continued to kiss and squeeze her flesh with his lips and occasionally his teeth. As he moved along her hairline, Demelza shuddered and called; “Ross, please.”  
But he continued to move his lips down her body, placing kisses along each inch till her reached her hard nipples. Licking, he heard her gasp and arch her body against his, pushing her flesh tight against his. His sucking on her nipples never failed to arouse Demelza, and for Ross it was a incomparable pleasure. Hard in his mouth, his tongue circled and flicked, then he sucked harder as he squeezed the firm mounds. By now Demelza was grinding her groin against his. His cock had a keenness of its own, pushing, drawn to find her sheath. Feeling her smooth skin, her silky patch of pale red hair where her thighs met against his cock made him ache with desire. But, he was determined to enjoy this yearning, keen for it to last as long as possible. Once entering her sheath, she ground against him with each thrust, and seemed to suck as he withdrew too soon brought him to that glorious relief. The challenge was to enjoy this feeling as long as possible before releasing his seed in her womb.  
Moving his one hand down her body, squeezing her breast with the other, Demelza began to pant as she grasped his head and held it tight against her nipple and arched her body. Slowly Ross stoked her belly, flat, taught, and smooth, till her reached her groin. As his hand rubbed her mound, Demelza softly called; “Judas, please Ross, please.” And her legs spread to allow him to touch her in any manner he desired. Pressing the heel of his hand against her groin, his fingers at her bud, Ross heard her moan. His fingers stroked against her opening and he slipped one finger in side her sheath. By now Demelza was almost crying his name, pleading. The sensation of her warm wet sheath closing on his finger was too strong, he withdrew his finger, raised and spread her legs wide, and placed his cock against the entrance and in one swift stroke entered her fully. Ross felt his cock completely enveloped by her warm tight sheath. The feeling to simply fill her and not move was replaced by the demand to slide his cock in and out, to feel the gentle suction, holding him, creating a friction that was an intense pleasurable pain for Ross. This he wished could last for hours instead of the minutes. But with Demelza thrusting against him as he pushed far into her sheath and how as he withdrew the walls of her sheath caressed him, Ross knew too soon he would flood her womb with his seed. Suddenly, Demelza wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him against her face and kissed him so deeply. With that Ross felt the walls of her sheath begin to contract around his cock. The sensation was sweet and Ross suddenly felt his own release begin and pushed tight into her sheath. The pulsing of his seed as it left his cock and filled her sheath caused him to moan clasp her tight. Too soon he had emptied his seed and slipped out of her sheath. Taking her face in his hands and kissed her slowly and deeply. Pulling his head back he looked at her face, a soft smile and her eyes closed in the moment, Ross felt such a satisfaction. Rolling off her body, Ross kissed her forehead, pulled her tight against his body, his limp cock, sticky still nestled against her groin, then drifted off to sleep.  
That memory of their loving only a few hours before in no way sated his growing desire for her again tonight. Each time they joined, even when completely satisfied, Ross still found she roused his passion. Ross knew he had to only slip in the bed beside her, take her in her in his arms, and Demelza would open her eyes, smile, willing to join with him again. She was always ardent, compliant, and never failed to bring him to satisfaction. For Ross joining, finding pleasure in their mutual desire, knowing she was satisfied and accepting only what he offered, reinforced his craving for Demelza, and resolve to protect her.  
Demelza stirred and rolled to where she would face him, instinctively reaching for him in her sleep. When she couldn’t find his body, she frowned, then pushed herself up and looked about the room. Demelza looked at Ross as he watched her, but somewhat unsure asked; “Is something wrong, is a storm brewing?” Ross slipped in bed beside her; “No my dear, just a bad dream woke me. But now that you are also awake, perhaps you could ease my mind with some of your tender attention.” Reaching, Demelza offered to take Ross in her arms; “Yes Ross.”


End file.
